I feel like someone punched me in the heart.
How did this
Where has the time gone?
I am so happy for him to be able to go to school. See his friends. Have teachers that are excited to lead him. People I’ve gotten to know and trust. And I am grateful that my husband has a job that has allowed me to stay home with our son in these important years. Grateful I will be able to greet him at the end of his day and say “How was school?”
I am lucky. So is he.
But he’s our only. And this tough old duck has a lump in her throat the size of a basketball.
I’ve tried my best to be a mother, not a smother. I’ve had to set him free into the arms of the world and believe that he’d be okay.
We almost lost him twice before he was born, were told that if he did make it, he would be dead within three months at best. When I had him, he couldn’t breathe and his heartrate would’t stabilize. He was in the NICU for a week. After that, there was no way we’d try for another. Too scary.
We are lucky. I know.
I know I can’t stay at his school all day waiting for him. I know I can’t park out front with binoculars hoping for a glimpse. But Damnit, I’d sure like to!
Last year, I had this same feeling over kindergarten. My husband bought me this:
This year, I’ve enrolled in University and College. Yes. You read that right. And today, he bought me a laptop. It was that or another dog.
I’ll be okay. And my boy will soar. It’s all good. Right?
He just called me to his room. He can’t sleep cause he’s too excited.
Yeah, it’s all good.
A busy week, what with withdrawal, family visiting and my son’s kindergarten graduation. You heard me! For those of you that are sans children, we as a society celebrate the mediocrities of life in earnest. The ability to sing the ABC song and hit the toilet (Yay!) has become a reason for people to fly in, get gussied up, buy presents and have cake. It is quite ridiculous. By my total I will have spent $735,000.00 on presents for inane accomplishments by the time he (hopefully) graduates high school. Without becoming a father. (Throwing that in there just in case the gods of birth control happen to read this.)
What ever happened to being quietly proud? And letting the offspring know that yes, this is nice, but get ready, because you have your whole goddamn life to work at and passing the K is pretty minor. Have we spoiled and coddled our children into a state of complete dependence on accolades just so they ‘feel’ good? I don’t know how the bosses of the future will manage. Hallmark had better come up with a card that says “You finished your work on time like I told you and you didn’t have your dad do it so you are the most awesomest human employee that the world ever had! Here’s your fucking cake!’
Am I proud as his mother? Yes, I am. There is almost a feeling of relief as well. “Hey! He made it! We didn’t fuck this all up as badly as we thought!” But then we remember we have 12 more years before college. And one more grey hair sprouts on my carefully coiffed head.
(Okay, I sound bitchy and like it doesn’t matter to me. It does. I almost can’t believe he’s gone from babe in arms to a little boy going into Grade 1. I wish I had one more day. One more day of everything with him. Of babyhood, first steps, first words, first friends, the worst of the flu and colds, the tears, the tantrums, the sleepless nights, the last kiss goodnight, and every hug and kiss he’s ever given me. This is too fast. I need just one more day of all of it.)
We use 10% of our brains, imagine how much we could accomplish if we used the other 60%. Ellen Degeneres